


sanctuary

by thebaffledking



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Childhood Trauma, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Reincarnation, Trans Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:21:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29164863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebaffledking/pseuds/thebaffledking
Summary: The year is 21XX. Once the most highly advanced territory in Fódlan, Faerghus begins to fall following the death of the King and Queen, and the disappearance of the crown prince. After hearing a rumor that Dimitri had been spotted in the sanctuary known as Garreg Mach, Sylvain and Felix set out to look for him.-Written for the FE3H AU Big Bang
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Kudos: 9
Collections: The Three Houses AU Bang





	sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> this is an idea based off a roleplay group i started that died pretty quickly but i still love the setting so i wanted to do something with it!! this is just the first half, the second half will come in time, just be mindful that i'm a slow writer

He’s standing in a garden, somewhere lush and beautiful, but Sylvain doesn’t recognize this place at all. There’s a mansion, or a  _ castle _ , or something like that. He can’t remember how he got here, but for some reason it gives him a feeling of being home. That can’t be right, though. This isn’t his home.   
  
The place where Sylvain lives is trashed. The terrain is just dirt, frozen over half the time by the perpetual winter— or so it feels like. There aren’t any trees, there’s no garden, and definitely no mansion. There never was.   
  
So where  _ is _ he?   
  
Determined to find out, Sylvain heads for the stairs leading up to the estate, but a voice calls out to him and stops him in his tracks.   
  
He feels frozen in place, fear holding him there. Too familiar footsteps come from behind him. The voice, dripping with venom, calls out to him again.   
  
_ “Sylvain.” _   
  
When he finally turns around, Sylvain sees his face.   
  
The garden, the mansion, everything beautiful around him fades away, into something he remembers all too well. That look of disgust and hatred, glaring down at him. The feeling of someone’s foot on his chest, pinning him to the ground. There are hands on him, holding his arms and his legs so he can’t thrash.   
  
The sound of cruel laughter from multiple sources.   
  
_ “Sylvain.” _   
  
And the buzzing of a chainsaw—   
  
“Sylvain!”   
  
Sylvain sits up suddenly, gasping, his hand immediately grasping the cool metal of his right arm. Pain floods through him, shooting through nerves that haven’t been there for years now. His head is throbbing on top of that, and he squeezes his eyes shut to block out the light.   
  
Neither of these sensations are unusual, but it’s been a while since it’s happened to him. Sylvain pants, waiting for it to pass. It doesn’t, not really, but eventually dissipates enough for him to open his eyes again.   
  
“Same dream again?” Sylvain squints when he looks up, vision blurry, but there’s only one person that black haired blob of a person could be. He nods in reply before shutting his eyes again, covering them with his palms. The phantom pain in his arm is fading quickly this time, at least. “It’s been a while since the last time.”   
  
“Yeah… sorry.” He stays in that position for a moment before he tries opening his eyes again. His head is still throbbing, but he can actually see Felix this time. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”   
  
Felix shakes his head, looking very much like he didn’t sleep. “I didn’t sleep.” Ah— that would explain why.   
  
“Don’t tell me you were out on the town without me.” Sylvain says with a weak laugh. The joke gets him a glare. Typical Felix.   
  
“I was out. Not in the way you would have wanted, so don’t pout about it.”   
  
“I’ll try my best.”   
  
It’s clear there's something Felix wants to tell him, but can’t quite figure out what to say. Sylvain decides to just wait and let him come up with it himself. That’s always worked better than trying to get Felix to talk. For the moment, he looks around the room, as if he hasn’t seen it a thousand times in his life already.   
  
It’s been nearly a year since Sylvain started living with the Fraldarius’ family. Their house wasn’t much bigger than his own, though, which left him sleeping on Felix’s floor. Occasionally on his bed if Felix was generous enough to switch places for the night.   
  
When he first moved in, Rodrigue offered him the spare room. Sylvain didn’t think he could sleep in a dead man’s bed.   
  
He was sure Felix would have killed him if he said yes anyway. This was fine, though. He’d spent the better part of his childhood having sleepovers with Felix. Staying in his bedroom was just like a permanent sleepover.   
  
… even if it meant he never had any privacy and often woke up in the early hours of the morning because Felix wanted to  _ spar. _ What century were they even living in?   
  
“Sylvain.”   
  
The serious tone in Felix’s voice makes him refocus, Sylvain’s attention completely on Felix now. He can tell he’s apprehensive about whatever is on his mind— it’s obvious by his tense stance, arms crossed, furrowed brow, and the way he’s tapping his foot like he’s impatiently waiting, but the only thing he could possibly be waiting on is his own mouth to form a sentence.   
  
After another moment of silence, he finally speaks.   
  
“I heard… a rumor.”   
  
“About me? Because I  _ told _ you not to listen to what the townswomen have to say about me. They’re only half truths.”   
  
“Not about  _ you. _ ” Felix snaps, scowling now but the tension somewhat relieved by Sylvain’s little joke. “I’ve heard plenty of ‘half truths’ about you, and I’d rather not hear more.”   
  
Sylvain grins at him. “I can tell you the whole truths, if you want.”   
  
“No!  _ Sylvain _ , this is serious!”   
  
“Okay, okay!” He raises his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, I’ll stop joking around. What’s the rumor?”   
  
“It’s…” Felix pauses again, “... about Dimitri.”   
  
They both fall silent, Felix waiting for a response, and Sylvain completely thrown off guard. It wasn’t what he had expected. The last time they talked about Dimitri was…   
  
It had been a while. Some time after he disappeared, Felix stopped mentioning his name. He’d only get pissed when Sylvain brought him up, so he stopped eventually too. Now the only one who talked about him in the house was Rodrigue, but the man mostly spoke to himself these days.   
  
After Glenn’s body was found with no trace of Dimitri nearby, they assumed the worst. That he’d never found Glenn at all. Or, Sylvain assumed if he had, he would have been so stricken with grief that he couldn’t bear to return home.   
  
“Felix… it’s been years. Who could possibly be talking about Dimitri?”   
  
“Someone in Fhirdiad claims to know where he is.”   
  
Sylvain gives Felix a skeptical look. “In  _ Fhirdiad _ ? If Dimitri was there, we would have heard about him sooner.”   
  
“I didn’t say Dimitri is in Fhirdiad.” Felix sighs and runs his fingers through his bangs, pushing them out of his face. “The word in Fraldarius is that there’s a man who frequents a certain tavern in Fhirdiad and boasts that he knows where the prince is.”   
  
That doesn’t sound any more convincing. “C’mon Felix, you don’t really believe that, do you? He’s probably some drunk fool spouting nonsense.”   
  
Felix is quiet, expression hard to read, but Sylvain knows he’s aware. Felix doesn’t believe a word of it, but….   
  
“You want to go anyway.” Sylvain says, not accusingly. Felix doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have to.   
  
For someone who never speaks of Dimitri anymore, Sylvain has always known that Felix still cares for him deep down. He’s angry and resentful, upset that Dimitri abandoned them, but he still missed his friend dearly. Sylvain knows, because he felt the same way.   
  
And he, even knowing how ridiculous this all sounded, also wanted to chase this small chance that maybe someone out there actually knew where Dimitri might be.   
  
“Okay. So… when do we leave?”   
  
Felix’s expression goes from unreadable to surprised, but only for a moment. “... as soon as possible. So pack your things.”   
  
By midday, Sylvain is ready to go.   
  


* * *

  
Fhirdiad is a ruin of a city. Before the King and Queen fell, the city was beautiful— teeming with life, always abuzz with _something_. It was the tech capital of Fodlan, built for greatness. But with the loss of the monarchy and any central government, the city fell just as quickly.   
  
Once beautiful buildings were now just empty shells, the only life in them consisting of thieves hiding where no one else dared to go. The only thriving businesses left were the bars, filled with seedy patrons and collecting blood money, and people selling black market goods under the table.   
  
Sylvain hadn’t been here since he was a child. He’s seen pictures, but never imagined how awful it truly was. The once lively city was desolate. It was depressing.  
  
The same could be said about the rest of Faerghus too, though. Fraldarius was one of the few cities that wasn’t overrun by criminals. Sylvain never felt particularly unsafe while he was there.  
  
He couldn’t say the same about Gautier.  
  
Since he left, Sylvain tried his best not to think of his home. But it always inevitably crept back up. Between nightmares and stray thoughts, it was impossible not to think of his mother, buried six feet underground in the backyard, or his father, left alone to fend for himself and his territory. It was impossible not to think of Miklan and the threat he’d sent them only days before Sylvain fled.  
  
Was he a coward? Maybe. He didn’t even know if his father was alive still. He may not ever know.  
  
Fhirdiad may have been in ruins, but it was preferable to that place. Still— Sylvain made a point to stick close to Felix as they walked through the streets. He was half tempted to take his hand, just to be sure he wouldn’t lose him.  
  
Not that there was a crowd, but he felt like something could jump out and grab either of them at any time.  
  
“This place sucks.”  
  
“What were you expecting?” Felix asks, giving Sylvain a glance before he fixed his attention back onto the wrecked buildings they passed. Every so often they’d pass a building that wasn’t completely fucked, a clear sign that some kind of business existed there. No luck finding the tavern they were looking for yet, though.  
  
Sylvain sighs, looking across the street for any sign of it. “I don’t know. I guess… I didn’t expect it to be as bad as it actually is. Like, we spent a lot of time here when we were kids.”  
  
“We spent a lot of time in the rich assholes’ part of the city. We were never over _here._ ”  
  
Fair point. Sylvain had probably never been in this part of the city at all. But from the looks of it, he couldn’t imagine the once wealthier parts were in any better state.   
  
“Do you think that candy shop we used to go to still exists?”  
  
“No.” Felix says, and huffs out an unamused noise. “I always hated that place.”  
  
“Because you hate candy! But there was that other place nearby that sold cool knives and you were pretty into that.”  
  
“ _Cool knives_ will beat _candy_ any day.” Felix pauses and looks at Sylvain. “... do you think that shop is still there?”  
  
“The knives might be, but I doubt it’s a legitimate business anymore.”  
  
Felix looks thoughtful for a moment. “Hm. We should look before we leave.”  
  
Sylvain can’t help but smile. Trust Felix to be swayed so easily by a blade of any kind. He never understood his friend’s obsession with swords and daggers, but it was cute. He could absolutely never say that unless he wanted to be stabbed, but somehow even being stabbed by one of Felix’s precious swords would be cute….  
  
Or maybe Sylvain was just a little weird. At this point, Felix was the only friend he had left and he didn’t want to imagine the man had a single bad quality about him.  
  
They’d been together through so much…. He didn’t know what he would do without Felix in his life. He couldn’t imagine it. He didn’t want to. Even if he never fell in love or got married or any of those things he imagined as a kid, Sylvain was sure he’d be happy so long as Felix was always beside him.  
  
But that was a sappy thought that needed to be pushed aside before Felix could notice the blush on Sylvain’s face.  
  
“Sylvain.”  
  
Felix stopped suddenly, the movement and sound of his voice jarring Sylvain out of his thoughts.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“That place. That’s it.”  
  
Ahead of them, on the street corner, was what looked like a former diner. The shop’s sign had long been torn down and replaced with a wooden board, the name _THE HORNETS NEST_ sloppy painted on it.  
  
It certainly felt like they were going for a vibe well over a thousand years old with that name. Sylvain wondered if that’s why Felix kept referring to it as a ‘tavern’, when it was really just a bar. Just like any other bar, he assumed.   
  
The windows were blacked out, but an open sign hung in the door.  
  
“Doesn’t look seedy at all.” Sylvain lets out an awkward little laugh, only to be ignored by Felix who beelines for the door. “... guess we’re really going in.”   
  
He catches up just in time as Felix opens the door. The inside of the tavern is, unsurprisingly, pretty simple. There was a long counter with stools, and a couple wooden tables. Not many patrons were inside. A small group at one table, a few men at the counter, and one loner in the back, at a table by himself.  
  
It felt cliche for that to be the one they were looking for, but Felix set his gaze on the man immediately. “They say he always sits by himself in the back.” Ah, it really was cliche.   
  
Felix makes his way to the man’s table, Sylvain in tow. At first he pays no attention to them, not until Felix speaks up.  
  
“I’ve heard there’s a man who claims to know where the prince is. Are you him?”  
  
“Maybe.” The man says without looking up from his glass. “Who’s asking?”  
  
“An interested party.” Felix replies and takes a seat without asking. Sylvain follows suit and keeps his mouth shut for now. He trusts Felix will be better at getting the information he wants. “One willing to pay if it gets you to talk.”  
  
_That_ certainly has the man’s attention. Sylvain doesn’t know what money Felix has, but he wouldn’t put it past him to steal from Rodrigue either.  
  
“Oh? How much?”  
  
“Let’s start by refilling that empty glass of yours.” Felix raises a hand to grab the attention of a server. Minutes pass by silently before the server comes to the table and a glass is placed before each of them. Felix pays them directly, and focuses on the man across from him again. “So?”  
  
Lucky for them, drunkards are always easily sold by more drink. “What exactly is it you want to know?”  
  
“I want to know where the prince is.”  
  
Sylvain eyes the glass in front of him, tempted to drink but knowing he should resist while in such an unfamiliar environment. It’s been a while. Felix is good at keeping him in line, for the most part. He likes drinking, though. He likes forgetting about all the shit in the world for just a moment.  
  
Alas, he doubts Felix would carry him home from this far away.  
  
And he’d hate to end up like this man, more interested in his refilled drink than the conversation. He takes a long swig of it and lets out a relieved sigh at the end. He’s still keeping silent, and Sylvain can tell Felix is getting impatient. “ _Well?_ ”  
  
Finally, the man looks up at them.  
  
“Have you heard of Garreg Mach?”  
  
“The church?” Felix asks, one eyebrow quirked. Everyone had heard of Garreg Mach at some point in their life, of course. The place had history, being the center of one of the biggest wars in their nation’s history. Nowadays it was nothing more than a big building where people worshiped an outdated Goddess. There weren’t many highly religious folk around anymore.  
  
No one had time to beg for the Goddess’s forgiveness when they were starving and fighting for their lives on the daily. She’d already damned them. What was the point?  
  
The man across from them nods his head before taking a long sip of his drink. Sylvain can practically feel Felix’s irritation, but they have to be patient. This is the only lead they’ve had in years, and it wouldn’t do to ruin it with Felix’s bad temper. Sylvain reaches over and places a hand on Felix’s thigh, in what’s supposed to be a comforting gesture.  
  
He feels Felix tense up under his touch, though, and pulls away just as quickly.  
  
Seeming not to notice, the man finally continues, “It’s more than a church. Garreg Mach is a city— the monastery is just within its borders.”  
  
“Fascinating. What’s your point here? You think the prince is in the city?” Still tense, Felix taps his fingers on the table. His patience is clearly running thin.  
  
“The monastery is a sanctuary now, for people who have nowhere to go.” The man pauses and takes another sip of his drink before looking Felix in the eye. “Doesn’t that sound like the place a runaway prince would disappear to?”  
  
The question makes Felix snap, before Sylvain can react at all. He slams his hand down on the table, glaring hard at the man. “So you don’t know anything at all. You just _suspect_ the prince is there.”  
  
When the man nods, Felix stands, violently kicking his chair away from him before he stomps out of the bar. The commotion has other patrons staring, but Sylvain just ignores them and follows after Felix.  
  
They’re outside for all of thirty seconds, just steps away from the bar when Felix turns around, letting all of his frustration out on Sylvain. Luckily he’s used to it by now. “This was a massive waste of time! Why did we even come here!?”  
  
“Whoa, Felix, calm down.” Sylvain holds his hands up in surrender, as if there were anything to surrender. “Don’t forget, coming here was _your_ idea.” That just gets him a harder glare thrown his way. Sylvain sighs and lowers his arms. “Look, it was a shitty lead. It’s bound to happen. No one has information about Dimitri— but….”  
  
“But?”  
  
“He’s not wrong. If there’s actually a sanctuary at Garreg Mach, Dimitri could have gone there.”  
  
“Why would the Prince of Faerghus go somewhere so obvious? He would have been found by now.” Felix argues, crossing his arms.  
  
Sylvain pauses, thinking back to the last time he saw Dimitri, half blind and disheveled, before he’d disappeared to look for a man who’d died days before. “... you and I both know Dimitri isn’t the _prince_ that people imagine anymore.”  
  
Felix is silent for a moment before he huffs out a long breath, gaze still fierce as he looks at Sylvain. He can’t deny that, and Sylvain knows it. And after this long, he was sure Dimitri looked even less like his old self. If they found him, he wondered if he would recognize his old friend.  
  
Or if he’d recognize them in turn.  
  
“You want to go.” Felix’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts, making a statement rather than asking a question. “Garreg Mach isn’t exactly around the corner, and neither of us can drive. Are you really up for making a trip like that?”  
  
No, not really. Sylvain wasn’t much of an adventurer, but… what choice did they have? He wasn’t ever expecting to have a lead like this. He knew already that neither of them could just go home and forget this information. Felix especially. Even if they didn’t leave tonight, there was some chance Felix would slip away in the morning, and Sylvain refused to let him do this alone.  
  
So, as much as an on foot trek to Garreg Mach sounded awful to him, Sylvain put on a grin anyway. “Obviously. Why would I be trying to talk you into it if I wasn’t? Besides,” he says, turning his head to eye an abandoned vehicle on the side of the road, “just because we don’t know how to drive doesn’t mean we can’t _learn_.”  
  
“Like hell I’m driving one of those things. And I’m not letting you learn on the job either.”  
  
Fair enough. They’d probably die before they got out of Fhirdiad. “Then I guess we don’t have a choice, huh?” Sylvain shrugs his shoulders, looking back at Felix. “It’ll be fine. We walked here, didn’t we? We just have to treat it the same way, except… it’ll be like two weeks longer and less familiar.”  
  
“Right….” Felix doesn’t sound all that convinced. Was he really hoping Sylvain wouldn’t want to go? But if that were the case, Sylvain couldn’t understand why they were here at all.   
  
He doesn’t question it, though, and merely continues the conversation. He starts to walk while he talks, heading back in the direction they came from.  
  
“It’s probably not smart to start from here, though. We should go back home, get some supplies. I’m sure Rodrigue has a map somewhere that we can take with us, ‘cuz we’ll definitely need that.”  
  
“Isn’t that what phones are for?”  
  
“Phones are good for quick navigation! But having a physical map will be easier to plan out our route ahead of time, y’know? Or if we end up needing to detour for some reason….”  
  
“Fair enough.”  
  
“It’s definitely better if we take our time preparing.” Sylvain gives Felix a _look_ to show he’s serious about that. He doesn’t need Felix trying to run off early, underprepared. “If he’s there, he’s probably not leaving anytime soon. So, there’s no need to rush.”  
  
Felix lets out a _tsk,_ but doesn’t argue, not really. “I wasn’t going to anyway.”  
  
They both know that’s a lie.  
  


* * *

  
Luckily, Felix behaves himself and doesn’t rush preparation. Sylvain can tell he’s antsy right off the bat, so he doesn’t procrastinate either. His main goal is making sure they have the supplies they’ll need— everything from first aid to food, to that map he insisted on.   
  
He plots out a route for them. He makes sure Felix has enough clothes packed. He asks Rodrigue for money.   
  
That last one is important, necessary, but he doesn’t tell Felix he did it. Rodrigue has never been anything but kind to Sylvain, especially since he took him into his household. Felix, however, would argue that his father is  _ shit _ . He would rather die than accept help from the man, or so he claimed.   
  
Sylvain understood why, but he saw Rodrigue’s side of things too. He was a broken man. A father who lost a son. He hadn’t been the same since Glenn was lost, but neither had Felix. It wasn’t an excuse for Rodrigue’s neglect, Sylvain knew that.   
  
He was sure, though, that Rodrigue and Felix still loved each other underneath it all. He didn’t see the disdain in Rodrigue’s eyes that he saw in his own father’s. And when it came down to it, he didn’t believe Felix would abandon his dad the way Sylvain abandoned his.   
  
They couldn’t just leave without telling Rodrigue anyway. Sylvain couldn’t, not in good conscience. He didn’t want to imagine what he would do when he realized his only living son had gone missing.   
  
But telling him they were looking for Dimitri was an awful idea too. Rodrigue had never really forgiven himself for letting Dimitri leave either, though it was entirely out of his hands. None of them could have stopped him then. He was so determined, so sure he could find Glenn and save him.    
  
Rodrigue had mourned the both of them long ago. What good would it do to tell him Dimitri could be alive if they returned empty handed?   
  
So he made up a story about how they were going on a trip.   
  
“We’ll be gone for a while,” he’d said, “so don’t worry about us, okay? I’ll write, so you know we’re alive.”   
  
He couldn’t say Felix would write, but Rodrigue probably knew that.   
  


* * *

  
“Galatea is our first stop. If we can make it there, we can restock on supplies and do laundry ‘n shit.”   
  
“Wouldn’t it be faster to—”   
  
“Whatever you’re about to say, the answer is probably yes. But Felix, please pay attention to what I just said.” Sylvain knows he sounds exasperated already, because he is. His map is lined out with his planned path, and Felix immediately complained about it upon looking.   
  
It’s not like he didn’t try to get Felix’s input when he was plotting it out back home, but Felix kept telling him to do it himself. That he didn’t care which way they went so long as it was the most  _ efficient.  _ Which, apparently, just meant the fastest route in Felix’s mind.   
  
With a huff, Felix ungracefully refolds the map and tosses it back at Sylvain. “I heard what you said, but there are other towns on the way.”   
  
“Yes, but they’re smaller, less likely to have what we’ll need, and potentially full of bandits. So we’re going to Galatea.”   
  
They haven’t even been walking more than a few hours and Felix is already picking fights. That’s not unusual actually, but it concerns Sylvain anyway. He’s anxious, Sylvain can tell. He won’t ever admit it, but it’s all over his features, from his facial expression to the way he walks.   
  
Felix almost always looks confident, in everything he does— until he doesn’t, because he’s  _ not _ confident for once in his life. It’s no surprise to Sylvain that he’s feeling like this, especially when Galatea’s been mentioned. Neither of them have been there in years, and there’s bound to be memories dragged up when they arrive. Good ones? Possibly. Possibly not. It depends entirely on what familiar faces they might see.   
  
Or might not.   
  
But this whole trip has Felix on edge, and Sylvain wishes he could do more to soothe his nerves. For now, he lets Felix pick his losing fights, and continues on the path he mapped out for them. It’ll be some time before they reach Galatea anyway. No point in worrying what they may find just yet.   
  
It’s quiet between them again for a little while, nothing but the sound of their shoes stomping the dirt below their feet. Sylvain has never been good with awkward silences, but surprisingly it’s Felix who breaks it.   
  
“So what’s your plan for tonight?”   
  
“Huh?” Did he miss something? Sylvain didn’t plan anything for tonight.   
  
Felix throws him another annoyed look. “To sleep? Are we spending the night somewhere? Or do you expect us to travel for days with no rest?”   
  
Ah. Right. Of course.   
  
… the problem was that, no, Sylvain had no plan, because he really didn’t plan for the first night at all. “We have sleeping bags?”   
  
“So you suggest we sleep on the open road? Or perhaps take shelter under the sparse trees.”   
  
“Uh….”   
  
“Sounds like a great plan! Glad I left you up to it.”   
  
“ _ You _ weren’t willing to help, so maybe you should complain a little less.” Sylvain snaps, trying his very best to stay composed, but even his patience with Felix can wear thin. “We’ll figure something out, alright? It’s still daylight. There’s gotta be something on this road we can use for shelter….”   
  
It wasn’t a sound argument, and Sylvain had his doubts about it being true. As far as he remembered, there wasn’t much on the road between Fraldarius and Galatea. Nothing of note, anyway. It didn’t even seem like people lived around here, but surely there had to be some houses nearby. An abandoned one would do perfectly.   
  
Silence fell between them again, more tense now than awkward, but Sylvain hated it just as much. Even though they’d known each other practically their whole lives, Sylvain still had a hard time trying to talk to Felix in a bad mood.   
  
He did try, pointing out something mildly interesting here or there, or bringing up some amusing (to him) past event, but Felix just grunted in response, clearly uninterested in talking.   
  
That would not stop him from trying. “The sky is starting to look pretty grey. It would suck if it started raining, wouldn’t it?”   
  
A grunt.   
  
“It would give you more reason to complain about my shitty mapping job.”   
  
No reply.   
  
“Not that you need more of a reason….” Sylvain looked at Felix, who wasn’t acknowledging him even a little. “Not even willing to banter now, huh?”    
  
“Is it  _ banter _ , Sylvain, or are you just purposely trying to piss me off?”   
  
“... both?”   
  
A rumble of thunder interrupts before Felix can say anything else, and the two of them look up at the quickly greying sky. It was a joke when Sylvain said it, but it seemed the world intended to play a joke on him back. Fuck.   
  
Felix shoots him a glare before continuing off on the path, picking up the pace as he did. They had all of ten minutes before raindrops began to fall, just sprinkling at first but it didn’t take long for the rain to pour down. It would have been refreshing, if the feeling of wet clothes sticking to him wasn’t so irritating, along with the nagging feeling that his backpack wasn’t all that waterproof.   
  
Sylvain felt a nudge in his side and looked at Felix questioningly. Felix gestured to his left, where a small patch of trees stood, surrounding what looked to be an old tower of some sort, just tall enough to peek out over the tops of the trees. Whatever it was, it would surely be a better shelter than the open road… so long as no one was already occupying it, of course.   
  
“What if there’s someone in there?” Sylvain voices his concerns, but Felix shrugged them off.   
  
“Then we’ll deal with them when we get there. C’mon.”   
  
Felix grabs his arm and proceeds to pull Sylvain toward the trees. He doesn’t resist, despite his wariness.   
  
The trees themselves were a fine break from the rain, but did nothing to protect them from the oncoming cold front that followed. The longer they stayed in this weather, the more the chill grew in their bones. Sylvain could feel himself shivering, and he swore he could see it on Felix too. Luckily, the tower wasn’t deep in the forest. Or rather, the forest wasn’t large enough for it to be. They were still dripping wet when they reached it.   
  
They circled the building until they found the entrance— just a hole in the wall that was probably once a door, but this whole place looked like it hadn’t been touched for centuries. Surprisingly, it seemed untouched by bandits and the like too.   
  
“Probably because there’s nothing in this shithole to steal.” Felix said, taking a look at the decrepit building from the inside.   
  
He was right, there wasn’t much of anything here. Somehow being inside still rubbed Sylvain the wrong way, but he couldn’t describe why. It was just…  _ uncomfortable. _ Like a bad memory, though he knew he’d never been here before.    
  
He played it off, though, not wanting to alert Felix or worry him over a bad feeling. It seemed safe enough, and they’d only be there for the night. “I’m just glad to be somewhere dry. I can’t believe it actually started raining.”   
  
“You brought this on us, asshole.”   
  
“I’ve got the worst luck.”   
  
Sylvain lets out a sigh and plops his backpack onto the ground before sitting beside it. He was still wet and cold, though it was better inside of here. A fire would be optimal, but there didn’t appear to be anything to burn in here, and surely all the wood outside would be too wet.    
  
Felix sits beside him, his own backpack settled between his legs. He opens it up and begins to rifle through it.   
  
Sylvain watches curiously for a moment before asking, “What are you looking for?”   
  
“A blanket. And dry clothes, obviously.”   
  
Oh, right, that made sense. Sylvain tugs his own pack closer to him and does the same. The rain didn’t soak through in the end, leaving his supplies and clothes dry. “I wish we had somewhere to hang our wet clothes to dry… Hopefully they dry overnight.”   
  
“Worst case scenario, we abandon them.”   
  
“I don’t want to do that.” Sylvain whines, already tugging his shirt off to look at it. It wasn’t a great shirt that he really cared about but… he only brought so many changes of clothes with him. It would be unfortunate to lose one. Though, he supposed he could just buy a new shirt if he wanted.   
  
Felix ignores his whining, standing to undress himself. It wasn’t the first time the two of them were underdressed around each other, not after growing up together and a full year of sharing a room. Sylvain kept himself turned away though, to respect Felix’s privacy.   
  
Even if Felix didn’t say it, Sylvain knew better than to look where he shouldn’t. If they were just shirtless, that would be one thing, but he’d likely get a punch to the nose if he even glanced between Felix’s legs— and he hated that there was some part of him that was tempted to anyway.   
  
… he’d blame it on sexual frustration and leave it at that.   
  
By the time he was dressed and turned around, Felix was too. He’d already kicked his backpack aside and was lying his blanket down on the ground.   
  
“Oh, good idea! Better than lying on the dirty floor. And we can use my blanket to cover up.”   
  
“Who said I’m sharing my blanket with you?” Felix huffs, but it wasn’t a true protest.   
  
At least, Sylvain hoped it wasn’t because he was too cold to lie here uncovered and six feet away from the only other nearby heatsource here. Not that Felix produced much body heat anyway, but still.   
  
Felix didn’t complain when Sylvain sat beside him on the blanket, so that was a good sign. As for his own, he drapes it over their laps before scooting closer and pressing his side up against Felix’s. “Goddess, it’s cold….”   
  
“Mm… that’s what standing in the rain will do to you.” Felix was good at making Sylvain feel dumb, even though neither of them had been just  _ standing _ in the rain… at least he wasn’t pushing him away.   
  
In fact, it seemed Felix was leaning into him too, clearly trying to share Sylvain’s body heat— because he actually  _ was _ a natural furnace, unlike Felix. And he was happy to share.   
  
“We should try to sleep, huh? We can get an early start on the day and make up whatever time we lost.”   
  
“You say that like we’re in any rush.”   
  
“Look, I want to get to a town with a real bed as soon as possible.”   
  
“Fair…”   
  
Their pathetic little blanket on the cold ground hardly made for a comfortable bed, but it was better than nothing. Sylvain sighs but lowers himself down and attempts to make himself comfortable. He pulls Felix down too, immediately wrapping his arms around him. “It’s  _ cold. _ ”   
  
To his surprise, Felix doesn’t struggle or protest against his manhandling. He does pull Sylvain’s blanket further up in a silent agreement about the cold. He must have really been feeling it. Pleased as he is, Sylvain stays silent about it. If he teased, Felix would absolutely pull away.   
  
And this was nice. It wasn’t often he got to cuddle with his prickly best friend. He’d cherish this day forever.   
  
Even though Felix wasn’t complaining, Sylvain still would. “Mm… we should have brought pillows.”    
  
“Like either of us had room for that. I’m surprised you remembered to bring a blanket, honestly.”   
  
“Shoulda brought a second one to use as a pillow….”   
  
“You’re fine, Sylvain. Now shut up and go to sleep.”   
  


* * *

  
The chill of the night brought unpleasant dreams to Sylvain. Dreams of being trapped in the dark, freezing cold and wet. Dreams of crying out for help that wouldn’t come.   
  
Dreams of unfamiliar faces, of bandits, men lying on the cold ground and bleeding out. Of a man, ugly and scarred and full of resent, becoming a horrible beast before his eyes.   
  
When he woke, he was shaking.   
  
Sunlight filtered into the old tower, stinging Sylvain’s eyes and adding to his throbbing headache. He lets out a groan and tosses an arm over his eyes. Great. A migraine was just what he needed.    
  
“Sylvain?” He hears Felix call to him and grunts in reply. “Are you alright? You look… distressed.”   
  
“M’fine…” Sylvain mumbles, peeking under his arm to look at Felix. “Headache. Just give me a couple minutes.”   
  
“Don’t take too long. We’re wasting daylight.”   
  
Felix was right, and Sylvain couldn’t whine about it when he’d said himself he was eager to find an actual bed to sleep in. He’d asked for a couple minutes though, and gratefully took it. He knew Felix understood how shitty he felt when his migraines kicked in like this.   
  
But he couldn’t lie here forever. He grumbles, sitting up to look at Felix, who’s sitting on the edge of the blanket and chewing on something. “... what do you have?”   
  
“Jerky.”   
  
“And you aren’t sharing?”   
  
“You didn’t ask.” He still didn’t ask, but Felix ever so kindly (after taking another bite) hands the rest of his jerky over to Sylvain. “Take it. I already ate one. I have like ten.”   
  
“You can’t survive on jerky, Felix.”   
  
“I can.”   
  
Sylvain just laughs.   
  


* * *

  
That small amount of meat helped, sort of. Or maybe it’s just that they’ve gotten back on the road and movement is helping Sylvain ignore the dull ache in his head. He made a mental note to stock up on his own snacks when they reached Galatea, and maybe some painkillers too. He had some pre-prepared meals, also known as  _ sandwiches _ , for the road, but he barely packed anything to munch on in between.   
  
Meanwhile, Felix was eating more jerky and not sharing. Dick.   
  
“Did you bring anything else to eat?”   
  
“Protein bars.”   
  
It was a miracle that Felix could live on this diet.    
  
But also, it wasn’t entirely a surprise that he’d packed such lightweight things in favor of bringing more meal-like foods. He probably knew Sylvain would do it for them, and Felix wasn’t ever the type to worry about practical things like  _ eating.  _ Sylvain had seen the inside of his pack, and it had more sharp objects than they would ever need. Various sized knives for Goddess knows what, and also what he was sure were brass knuckles.    
  
All of that on top of the bat he’d been carrying with him this whole time and the katana strapped to his back. Was he expecting to have to take down a boar for food? Maybe. Sylvain couldn’t be too sure what he was thinking when he packed, and he wasn’t about to ask.   
  
“Do you know where we’re stopping tonight? There’s no way we’ll make it to Galatea before dark.” Felix asks suddenly, snapping Sylvain out of his thoughts.   
  
The answer was, once again, no. Of course. “Uh, no? But the area up ahead is pretty forest-y. We can make a camp off the main road for the night.”   
  
“Alright.”   
  
They’re mostly quiet as they walk, bantering back and forth here and there, but really there’s not much to say on the open road. Not anything they don’t already know about each other, and not anything the other isn’t experiencing. They’re well into the forest by the time the sun sets, still following the road through.    
  
_ ‘We should stop soon,’ _ is what Sylvain wants to say, but he keeps his mouth shut. He can’t help this feeling like they’re being watched, but he doesn’t turn his head to look. He can tell from how tense Felix is that he feels it too.   
  
They keep walking, silent, until the sound of footsteps behind them becomes clear.   
  
“Sylvain,” Felix looks at him, and he looks back, “ _ run. _ ”   
  
They make a break for it, off the path and into the trees, but they don’t make it far before someone jumps out in front of them, holding a knife. ( and Sylvain can’t help but think it looks a little pitiful compared to the collection in Felix’s backpack )   
  
“Drop your shit and  _ maybe _ you won’t get hurt.” The person snaps, hand shaking as they hold the knife toward Felix.   
  
Felix just looks unimpressed. “Really? Maybe you should put the knife down before  _ you _ get hurt.” He grips the bat in his hand tighter, ready to swing if this person tries anything.    
  
They stand firm, though, despite the reluctance Sylvain can see in their eyes. “Just give us your bags and go!”   
  
“Us?” Sylvain asks, just as Felix turns around to see someone else creeping up behind them.    
  
He doesn’t hesitate to swing now, a sickening crack sounding as the bat hits the man’s head. The other person cries out and rushes forward, dropping their knife to tackle Felix to the ground, as if that would help  _ now _ . But Sylvain hears Felix grunt in pain as he lands, wrist twisted under himself.   
  
“Felix—” Sylvain sounds panicked, but doesn’t move, eyes wide as he watches Felix struggle under his attacker.   
  
He should help. He  _ could _ help. But a different kind of fear keeps him frozen in his spot.   
  
By the time he snaps out of it, realising he could just pull the person off of Felix, it’s a little late for that. Felix has already shoved them off and swung his bat for a second time. The bandits lie unconscious on the ground.   
  
“Let’s go.” Felix says, already walking away. He’s quietly seething. Sylvain can feel it. But neither of them says anything until they’re well into the forest and away from the scene of the crime.   
  
“Felix….” Sylvain starts, unsure what to even say. He doesn’t get a chance anyway before Felix whirls around, absolutely  _ fuming. _ Sylvain can’t blame him. He really fucked this up. **_  
_ ** **_  
_ ** “You’re so  _ useless _ , Sylvain!” Sylvain winces at the harsh words, but doesn’t disagree. “You just stood there! How do you ever expect to survive if you can’t even fight!?” Felix snaps, holding his wrist to his chest as he glares at Sylvain. It’s clear the pain is getting to him now that the adrenaline rush is over.   
  
Sylvain doesn’t know what to tell him. It’s true, he’s not much of a fighter. He’s not like Felix, who’s spent his whole life training like he’s been  _ waiting _ for a fight. He’s not useless either, though, it’s just… the biggest strength he has is something he’s always been too afraid to use.   
  
His best kept secret, even from Felix. He could use it to help, but he wasn’t certain Felix wouldn’t shun him for it. But wouldn’t it be worse to leave him in pain like this?   
  
“I can help.” He says, voice shaking.   
  
“It’s a little late for  _ that.”  _   
  
“No, I mean…. Let me see your wrist.”   
  
Sylvain holds out his right hand, heart beating fast as he waits for Felix to comply. He can see the skeptical look on his friend’s face. Of course he can, it’s obvious that Felix is in pain and doesn’t believe Sylvain can do a thing to help.   
  
But he knows Sylvain would never hurt him either. He hesitates, but lets Sylvain take hold of his arm. He carefully slides his hand down until he’s cradling Felix’s wrist. He places the other on top, and looks up at Felix’s face again. “Just trust me, okay? It’s… been a while since I’ve done this.”    
  
“Done  _ what _ , Sylvain?”   
  
He doesn’t answer with words. Sylvain looks down at their hands again and takes a breath. He closes his eyes and concentrates.   
  
A white glow begins to form, growing brighter the more energy Sylvain focuses into it. He hears Felix gasp, from  _ surprise _ and not pain, so he hopes. When he opens his eyes, he can see the light for himself and is almost amazed to see it. It really has been a while, and he’s never had a use for magic unless it involved covering up his own wounds.   
  
That was, of course, the reason he taught himself light magic in the first place.   
  
“How does it feel?” Sylvain asks, glancing up at Felix again. He can see the awe on Felix’s face, an unusual expression for him.   
  
“It’s… It doesn’t hurt.”   
  
“Good.” Sylvain breathes, and slowly focuses his energy away from his magic, the light fading as the healing stops. He pulls his hand away, still holding Felix’s wrist with the other. “Can you move it?”   
  
Felix takes a moment to register the question before he pulls his hand away, moving his wrist just slightly. He still looks awed, even more so when he realises his wrist really doesn’t hurt at all. “It’s not broken anymore?”   
  
“That was the goal.” Sylvain says, letting out a little laugh. “But be careful with it. I’m not confident my magic can heal a break completely. We should probably still wrap it.”   
  
Felix hasn’t asked any questions yet, but Sylvain knows they’re coming. After all, magic isn’t common these days. It’s practically taboo to talk about, let alone  _ use _ . He has no idea what Felix actually thinks about this. Just because Sylvain helped him doesn’t mean he couldn’t push him away. But he tries to ignore that possibility in favor of digging out his first aid kit.   
  
He holds his hand out for Felix’s wrist again, which is promptly given to him, and he sets about on wrapping it. Once he’s sure that it’s set and wrapped tightly, he asks, “How’s that? Comfortable?”   
  
And Felix ignores his question. “What was that?”   
  
“I just asked if it’s comfortable— not too tight?”   
  
“No, not  _ that. _ ” Felix rolls his eyes, all too aware Sylvain is avoiding the subject. He won’t let him. “You used magic.”   
  
“Oh, uh….” Sylvain let’s out an awkward, forced laugh. “Heh, yeah, I did.”   
  
“How?”   
  
“I, uh. I taught myself.”   
  
“When?”   
  
He’s really going to ask all the questions, isn’t he? Sylvain sighs, resigning himself to this conversation. “When I was a kid. Miklan used to… y’know. I didn’t want anyone to worry, so I tried to find ways to cover it up. But sometimes he went too far, so I had to figure out some other way to hide it.”   
  
Luckily the internet had all the answers he’d ever need. Magic may have been taboo, but that never stopped people from talking about it. At least, not in the deep recesses of the internet. Apparently there was a whole market for it in the seedier parts of towns, but Sylvain had never been brave enough to seek any other magic users out.   
  
He wasn’t an expert by any means, but he could heal, and he could create fire.    
  
Felix didn’t reply right away, the quiet only contributing to the gnawing anxiety Sylvain felt. He couldn’t tell what Felix was thinking at all. He wasn’t lashing out in disgust, so that was a good sign, right…?   
  
“Does it bother you?” He blurts out without thinking.   
  
But Felix doesn’t flinch. “It doesn’t bother me that you can use magic. It  _ does _ bother me that you had to learn because of your shitty brother.” His reply, though filled with venom for Miklan, makes Sylvain breathe a sigh of relief. “I’m surprised you’ve kept it hidden so long.”   
  
“I haven’t had a reason to use it since… well, y’know, he kind of did the one thing I couldn’t heal with magic.” Sylvain says, giving a glance to his prosthetic.   
  
“Does your family know?”   
  
“Hell no. They would have disowned me too.” Not that it mattered anymore, not when Sylvain had abandoned his home. “You’re the only one who knows now. So, let’s just keep it our little secret?”   
  
“Okay.”   
  
The anxiety slowly washes away, and Sylvain feels himself relax. He should have known he could trust Felix to stick by him no matter what. With that confidence, he grins and holds out his hand again. A little flame appears in the palm of his hand.   
  
“Great. Now let me show you what I can do with fire.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/sxssafras)


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